New London Calling
by 42ndNeutrino
Summary: When the worlds of the Administration and the Gotei-Thirteen clash, will either survive?


**Chapter 1: Interrogating the Interrogator :**

I looked up at the man puffing himself up in front of me, like Omaeda with a new recruit. This was going to be a boring few hours.

Heh. Maybe I should grade him on his skill. It would provide some entertainment, and if he was good enough, I could recruit him when he died.

"My name is Toreth. Senior para-investigator Val Toreth, in fact, although I don't particularly care what you call me. I've heard it all before anyway."

I suppressed a smile. Excellent opening. I would remember to add it to the Omnitsukido interrogation routine.

Now, we already have a quantity of information about your crime." He paged through the flat com-device. Ten points for effect. "The Shinigami, a gang that you are affiliated with, planted an explosive device in the building of the Department of Justice. Doubtless it was some act of petty vandalism. We need to know who organised the crime, and the names of those involved. And you will tell us. Or-" he motioned towards the serious-looking chair beside me, fitted with restraints and surrounded by medical paraphernalia.

"Go to hell." I drawled.

"Ah well." Toreth sighed. "A pity. In that case-" he motioned towards the chair.

To go quietly, or to cause a fuss? In the end, I decided to cause a fuss. I'd buy more time that way.

I stood up quietly. Toreth watched me closely. I took a step towards the interrogation chair, then abruptly twisted and lunged towards the door, just brushing him on the way by.

As I'd predicted, he caught me. I struggled ineffectually in his arms as he yelled for the guards. Mmm, he certainly smelled nice.

Finally, two beefy people-one a mocha-skinned man, the other a pale woman- entered, locked my arms and marched me to the chair. I pretended to struggle the entire way.

Man, where the hell was Nanao? There was no clock in the room, so I had no idea how much time had passed since I'd arrived. At this rate, the boredom itself would break me.

Finally, they managed to force me down into the chair, and strap me in. Double sets of padded leather restraints went on my arms and legs, securing them to the arms of the chair. The headrest was padded. All in all, rather more comfortable than the equipment back home.

Toreth had been watching me impassively the whole time. Now he walked over to me, pulling on a pair of white gloves on the way, and leaned in close.

"We can make this easy or we can make this hard." He said softly. "I know your kind. I know how you operate. I just want names: names of your colleagues, name of your organization, name of your meeting places. Give them to me, and I can negotiate with Justice to get you a reduced sentence." He leaned back. "So, what'll it be?"

I grinned. "I doubt you know how our organization works." I doubted that he wanted to know, either.

He shrugged. "Too bad. You had your chance.", he said, and moved to the table of instruments behind me. I heard him slip on a pair of gloves, and then pick something up. A moment later, he returned with a long, thin silver wand and held it up before me.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"A neural stimulator." I replied mechanically. I wasn't stupid. The Gotei had been keeping tabs on the Administration for centuries now, and I had read every single bit of information about the odd little world.

"I'm giving you another chance." He said. "Just tell us your friends' names. Justice is fair. They'll only be charged according to their crimes. And you can walk free."

I snorted. Justice was fair, all right. As fair as the Central 46.

He frowned, clicked a button on the wand and placed it in the oh fuck fuck fucking where the fuck was oh god let me out no stop it fire I'm on fire and I can't move oh god it hurts oh god-

The pain abruptly stopped and I slumped down. Looking up, I saw Toreth removing the wand from my forehead.

"That... thing... fucking... hell." I gasped.

He didn't reply. I heard a click, then oh god holy fuck NANAO WHERE ARE YOU IT BURNS AND I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE-

The sudden cessation of pain had me slumping again and gasping for breath. My throat was raw from the screaming, my eyes were actually tearing up, and I tensed, waiting for another shot of pure unadulterated pain.

"Report, Fujikawa-san."

My head snapped up. There, in front of me, bespectacled and uniformed and precision-perfect as always, with her haori billowing regally around her slim frame, was Eighth Division's captain, Ise Nanao.

**So this is my first fanfic. And it is a Bleach x Administration series crossover, because I am clearly high. Or possibly sleep-deprived.**

**(If anyone doesn't know the Administration series by Manna Francis, I advise them to go check it out.)**

**Read and review please! Any kind of criticism is appreciated.**


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